I Once Was Lost
by Iliana-anailI
Summary: When Voldemort claimed the lives of the Potters that fateful night, Harry's family was destroyed...or was it? Read and reply and thou shalt be rewarded with cookies! Flame me and thou shalt be gouged in the eye by pointy sporks! GRRR!
1. On the Edge of the Knife

Violet sat in her room. Looking about it at first glance, it looked like a normal 4 year old's room. There was a small bed with a Rainbow Brite bed cover, and rainbows painted on the walls. But unlike a normal room, the pictures on Violet's bed cover moved as if they were alive, and the rainbows sparkled during the night, acting as a nightlight to keep away spooky shadows and terrifying lumps of laundry. But to Violet, none of this seemed unusual; in fact it was quite natural to her...because Violet's parents were a witch and a wizard. In time Violet's own powers would emerge and she too would go to school to learn the arts of witchcraft and wizardry. However, at the moment, none of that concerned her young mind. Right now, she was entirely focused on tossing her numerous Barbie dolls out of her upstairs bedroom window.

"Bye, bye, Barbie!" she called as she stood on a rocking chair and poked her small head out the window after the doll. She giggled loudly as the doll thudded against grass two stories below her.

Down the hall, in her parent's bathroom, her mother was trying with limited success to give her 1-year-old baby brother a bath. But rather than clean the little rugrat, all she'd managed to accomplish was to get soaked. She looked at the miniscule monster in the tub with his bright laughing green eyes and mischievous giggling grin, with mock severity.

"Listen, you. You have -to –get –clean, young man." And then she broke into a grin and attacked with the washcloth amid howls of protestation. She rinsed him off and lifted him out of the tub with a big fuzzy towel. While she was drying him off, she noticed that she hadn't heard a peep from her daughter in almost 5 whole minutes—far too long. "James!" she called to her husband.

James Potter was worried. These were dangerous times. Dark times. The Dark Lord was running rampant, killing good, decent people left and right. His Death Eaters were everywhere, and you didn't know whom you could trust. His influence and power seemed to be gaining in strength everyday. To think that something so foul had had the bravado to solicit him and Lily to join his Death Eater scum! And now he and Lily had been singled out for extermination. He had it on good authority. He had gone to the only wizard he knew with a possibility of helping him...the one wizard Voldemort feared—Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore had suggested a complicated spell called a Fidelius Charm. It involved the magical concealment of a secret within a single, living soul. James had wanted his best friend, Sirius Black to be his secret keeper for the Charm. It made perfect sense to James and Lily, both. Sirius was like a brother to James. He had been best man at his and Lily's wedding. Sirius had agreed to be secret keeper, but then at the last minute, he had changed his mind. He and Sirius had talked long into the night that night a week ago. Sirius was worried that he would be too obvious a target for the enemy. He was afraid that the Dark Lord and his forces would realize immediately that he was the secret keeper, because everyone knew how close they had been at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In the end, Sirius had convinced James to choose another old school friend as their secret keeper. Peter Pettigrew wouldn't be as obvious, Sirius had said, because he was—well—small and jittery. Not exactly the type to do something so bold.

James hoped Sirius was right. He hadn't heard from Peter in over a week, and now he was starting to get jittery.

"James!" his wife's voice called from upstairs, interrupting his thought.

"Coming!" he called back as he dashed up the stairs. The scene that met him pushed his fears to the back of his mind. Lily sat in their bedroom drying off their son, Harry. "What do you need, hon?"

"I need you to check on monster number one, while I deal with monster number two here." She said with a grin.

"Can do!" with a goofy grin on his face, he saluted her and made for his daughter Violet's room. He opened the door silently, only to find his oldest child standing on a rocking chair in her nightgown, teetering towards an open window, happily chucking her dolls out the window.

"Freeze, young lady!" he bellowed in his best attempt at a stern, 'authority figure' voice. It had no effect. The precocious raven haired little girl turned around and waved with a huge smile on her round little face.

"Hi Daddy! Barbie go bye-bye!" she giggled.

"Is that so? It's not very nice to throw your dollies out the window." He said with an evil grin. "How would you like it if I picked you up" he hoisted Violet into the air above his head, squealing and laughing "and spun you around, and tossed you?!" And with that he bounced her gently down on her bed.

"Again, Daddy, again!" Violet clapped.

"James, you're getting her riled up before bed again." Lily smirked from the doorway.

"Awww, Mommy, come on." Violet pleaded.

"Yeah, Mommy, come on." James chimed in, sticking out his bottom lip.

Lily rolled her eyes. "No. Come now Violet, I've just put Harry down, don't you want to come say goodnight before he falls asleep?"

Bingo. Lily had said the magic word, James thought. Violet was absolutely enchanted with her baby brother. She helped her mother feed him and she played with him all the time. He supposed Harry was like a living doll for her. He just hoped she never tried to drop poor Harry out a window, he thought with a chuckle.

"Okay, mommy." Violet acquiesced.

"And then bed." Lily said firmly.

"Okay." Violet agreed dejectedly.

Harry's crib was in James and Lily's bedroom. Lily lifted her little girl up on her hip so she could see in the crib.

"_Goodnight, Harry_." Violet whispered, and blew him a kiss.

Lily carried Violet back to her room, and laid her in her bed, tucking her in.

"'Night, Mommy. 'Night Daddy." She yawned.

"Sweet dreams, sweetie." Lily kissed her, and walked to the doorway.

"Sleep tight, troglodyte." James said and kissed her. Violet laughed sleepily.

"I love you, Daddy."

"I love you back." And with that he and Lily tiptoed out of the room and shut the door.

Unlike a lot of wizarding homes, James and Lily had a lot of muggle stuff in their home. Lily had almost insisted on it. She had never really learned how to survive without TV and movies, radios and refrigerators, and the like. So James had been inducted to the wonderful world of muggles. He found it quite fascinating. He had grown up in a wizarding home, so at first a lot of the muggles' artifacts were quite alien to him, but now that he was used to them, he couldn't believe how naïve he must've seemed to Lily.

They walked downstairs and Lily turned on some music softly. He wasn't sure what it was, some muggle band he didn't know, but he liked it. He went into the kitchen and came back with an open bottle of red wine and a pair of wine glasses.

"What is it?" he asked.

"The music? I thought you'd like them." She smiled pouring them both some wine. She tipped her glass back for a sip, but she didn't let up. James watched in amazement as she drained the whole glass, and proceeded to pour herself some more.

"Damn, Lil, are you okay?" he looked at her seriously.

"I—I've been trying to keep a brave face for you and the kids," she said looking into her wine "but—oh god, James, I'm scared."

"Hey, oh honey, come here." He drew here into his arms and rocked her back and forth.

She burst into all out tears into his shirt. "I'm just so scared!" she sobbed.

"Shhh, shhh, it's alright, baby. The Fidelius Charm will hold. From the lips of Albus Dumbledore." He soothed. But would it? Where **_was_** Peter?

"But James," she said wiping her face "we haven't heard from Peter in over a week! Where is he? Why haven't we heard from him? What if--"

"He's probably just lying low. Can't send a message." He told her. She looked doubtful. Understandable since he was having a hard time convincing himself.

"James, I--" Lily started, but she didn't know quite what she wanted to say.

"Lily, if you want to, I mean, that is, if you don't feel safe here, then we'll leave." He told her.

"Really, James?!" her face lit up. Leaving was what she wanted to do most. It wasn't that she didn't trust Peter, just that she knew that if he got caught, she didn't think it would take him long to squeal. Personally, she never thought James and Sirius had come up with a dumber idea, but if James trusted him, then she did, too.

"Really. I hope Peter's alright, but if he's not, then it's not safe to stay here. We'll pack as much as we can tonight and we'll leave first thing in the morning for the States. We'll take muggle transportation. It'll attract less attention. I'm going to write a letter to Dumbledore, he can tell Sirius where we've gone."

"I'll go upstairs and start packing." Lily said and darted up the stairs.

James shut off the music and sat down at the roll top desk in the living room. He took out a quill and some ink and began to write.

Upstairs, Lily was trying her best to dig the suitcases out of the hall closet without making too much noise. She dragged both of them into the bedroom and hoisted them up on the bed. She was pretty sure she'd be able to fit most of their important belongings into these two suitcases. They were Silverman's Space-Savers Deluxe Suitcases; she'd bought them for her and James's honeymoon out of a catalog. Normal on the outside, they were huge when you opened them. She began emptying drawers into the suitcases as quickly and as quietly as she could. If Harry woke up she wouldn't be able to get anything done.

James was just finishing his letter when something caught his ear. He could hear Lily walking around upstairs, but this sounded different...closer. He pulled his wand out of his pocket, hardly daring to breath. He walked slowly into the hallway that connected the front and back doors, so he could see both ground level entrances. Then slowly, a green glowing ray of light shone through the keyhole of the backdoor. James' heart dropped into his stomach with a thunderous echo.

"_Fuck!_" he made a mad dash for the bottom of the stairs. "_Lily!! It's too late! Take Violet and Harry and go!! It's Him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off--_" But then James heard that high-pitched voice throw a curse at him he knew he couldn't block.

"_AVADA KEDAVRA!_" The Dark Lord screamed.

All things slowed to slow motion for James. He saw the curse's green light shoot from the wand pointed at him. He saw it come towards him. He prayed Lily and the kids would get away. The curse made contact...and James Potter saw no more.

Upstairs Lily heard the sounds of someone stumbling. It was a horrible thud. "_James?! James?!!!_" she screamed. But what appeared at the bottom of the stairs wasn't her husband...it was the Dark Lord himself. She froze. She couldn't get to both children in time. In a split-second decision she jetted towards her bedroom. It was wrenching to her mother's heart, but Violet was older and had a better chance of getting away. Harry would be defenseless. She slammed her bedroom door shut and started pulling furniture in front of it. Her heart and mind were racing—if she could just keep him out long enough to levitate Harry and herself out the window. She could run around to Violet's window, levitate her down and they could make a run to the nearest fireplace.

At this point Violet was wide-awake and very frightened. She had heard her Daddy yell for Mommy to run. She crawled out of bed and stood on tiptoe so she could reach the doorknob. She pulled the door open just a crack. She got down on the floor, her teddy bear tucked under her arm, and looked through the sliver of open door. A very scary looking man was standing in the hallway, with his wand out. He pointed it at Mommy and Daddy's room and blasted the door away. Violet almost screamed, but she clapped her tiny hand over her mouth.

Lily was thrown back against the far wall by the force of the blast, her wand knocked out of her hand and across the room. She watched as the Dark Lord stepped nonchalantly into her and James's room. He grinned horribly and she knew that he was there to slaughter them all. She stood in front of Harry's crib and without words, dared the Dark Lord to try and touch her son.

At first he frowned at her bold behavior, especially without a wand on her, but then slowly, as the seconds ticked by, that malicious grin returned.

Lily's resolve faltered. "_No—Not Harry! Not Harry! Please—I'll do anything--_"

"_Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!_"

"_NEVER!_"

"_Have it your way—AVADA KEDAVRA!!_"

Lily Potter lay crumpled in a heap on the floor. Her children now had to fend for themselves.

Violet heard her Mommy scream and crept along the wall. Tears were streaming down her face at this point. Where was her Daddy? She tried to sneak a look into her Mommy and Daddy's room without being seen. She saw the bad man going over to Harry's crib. Her Mommy was on floor, not moving.

"_MOMMY!_" she whispered desperately. "_MOMMY!! PLEASE GET UP!!_"

Voldemort was too focused on the child in front of him to notice the one behind him. He'd wipe the whole family out! No one defies Lord Voldemort and lives! He raised his wand in the direction of the boy in the crib, who looked at it curiously, and prepared to utter the Death Curse for a third time that night.

Violet knew now her Mommy was dead. She knew what dead was—she'd had a pet rabbit that went to Heaven, too. But it was worse with Mommy, much worse. She couldn't watch while the bad man killed little Harry, too. She could hardly see for tears. Where was her Daddy? She ran downstairs, halfway down she heard the bad man yell some words she didn't know, and there was a horrible high-pitched scream. Violet ran faster and looked back over her shoulder, only to trip over something at the foot of the stairs.

"_DADDY!_" she screamed hysterically. She laid her little head on his chest and cried bitter tears. Then from nowhere there was a comforting voice in her head, a voice she didn't recognize. _Get out!_It was saying to her. _Get out of the house now!_ With one last look at her Daddy, Violet got up and ran to the front door, unlatched the lock, and fled the house.

Once she was outside, Violet was really afraid. She was beginning to realize the reality of how utterly alone she was. Barefoot, in her flimsy little cotton nightgown, she ran across the street to hide in some bushes. She didn't know what else to do. She curled up in a ball and watched as her house, with her family in it, glowed bright green, shook violently, and collapsed.


	2. The Next Move

Inside that collapsed house, Voldemort had been ripped from his body. Somehow the Death Curse he had thrown at the boy hadn't worked. It had rebounded upon him. He didn't understand what had happened. He tried to pick up his wand but his hand was purely ephemeral now. He couldn't hold his wand. In, fact, he couldn't do anything. But he knew he wasn't dead, for he had taken far too many precautions against death, in the way of spells and potions. The rebounded curse should've killed him. Apparently one of his fail-safes had worked. He needed help. He called out to Wormtail to come to his aide.

Peter Pettigrew was nervous as hell, and for good reason...he had just sold out his best friends to the Dark Lord. He was well aware that Lord Voldemort was going to the Potters' house tonight—on All Hallows Eve. He was just thinking of the nice fat reward the Dark Lord might give him for the information, when the Dark Mark on his arm began to burn awfully. His master needed him. He was only about 5 miles away. The Dark Lord wanted someone close incase things got out of hand. Peter Apparated to the Potter's house with a loud _crack!_

When he arrived a few moments later, he saw the devastated ruin of the Potter house, but nothing else. And then he saw it—the spectral form of what was left of Lord Voldemort. He cried out—he was repulsed and terrified. And with good reason, he had sent the Dark Lord to this house. He would be held responsible. The Dark Lord's wrath would be horrible and he had no one to shield him from it. He could hardly turn to Dumbledore for help, not after selling out Lily and James! He was in a frantic panic now. What was he going to do?!

Violet had been to busy sobbing to notice before, but when she heard a strangled cry escape someone's lips and she looked up. She wiped her eyes so she could see better. It was a short, chubby, sandy haired man standing in front of the rubble that used to be her house. Her face was awash with relief.

"Uncle Peter! Uncle Peter!" she burst out of the bushes frantically waving her arms, teddy bear in tow.

Peter almost had a heart attack and died. He turned around to see a tiny little girl burst out of some bushes from across the street waving her arms and calling his name. It was James's oldest, Violet. He looked back at the house—the spectral Voldemort was gone. Peter picked up the girl. He needed to get out of here and he'd have to take the girl with him, she'd seen him here. Dammit, it was all happening too fast, he needed a place to think. Meanwhile Violet was crying into his robes.

"Uncle Peter, a bad man came and hurt M-MM-Mommy and Daddy and Harry; and he b-bb-broke the house, too." She sobbed.

"Shhh, now Violet, Uncle Peter needs you to listen, there may be more bad men on the way, okay? So I need to get us out of here.

So will you be a good girl then and come with me now so we can get to where it's safe?" Peter asked as patiently and as Uncle-like as he could.

Violet nodded solemnly and Peter made sure he had a good grip on her before he Apparated the two of them, making for the safe house 5 miles away. He smiled to himself at how easily he had gotten the little girl to come with him. If there was one thing Peter Pettigrew was good at, it was lying.

When they arrived at the safe house, Violet was exhausted. Peter laid her down on an old dusty sofa, while he sat down at a table to think of what to do next. Thinking wasn't exactly his forte when he was at his best, and wrong footing him by putting massive amounts of stress and nervous anxiety on him was not bound to increase his thought success rate. He switched on a radio sitting on the table and tuned it to WWN (Wizarding Wireless Network). Sure enough, it was already news:

This reporter has just received a report that

there has been another attack. The house of

James and Lily Potter and their two small

children has been decimated. Reports confirm

that both James and Lily are dead, no word

yet on their daughter. But rumors are running

wild about the Potters' young son Harry who

was discovered ALIVE amid the rubble. Albus

Dumbledore, current Headmaster of Hogwarts

School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, has stated

that by the looks of the lightening shaped scar

now scrawled across the boy's forehead,

young Harry was attacked with the Death

Curse, listeners, and survived! Some are

even going so far as to speculate that the

Dark Lord was severely injured or even

destroyed! It is a glad day for us all my friends!

Peter listened intently to the broadcast, gleaning out what was important to him. So the Dark Lord had used the Death Curse on James and Lily, but something had gone wrong with the boy. Wrong enough to turn Him into that thing he had seen back at the Potters' house. Think, Peter, think. How can you get yourself out of this mess? It's not my fault! It's Harry Potter's fault! And then the barest glimmer of an idea came to him. Maybe if one Potter brat could get him into this mess, then another one could get him out. He turned to look at Violet sleeping on the musty sofa, worn out by her emotions. But how? Who could he go to, that thought enough like the Dark Lord, but also had something to gain by helping him? The answer hit him like a ton of bricks. Lucius Malfoy. Lucius had power and connections; he would save Peter's hide in an effort to save Voldemort. Peter switched off the radio. He needed to get to Malfoy. He didn't have much money on him, but he hoped it'd be enough. Juggling both Violet, who was still fast asleep, and his wand Peter ventured outside to the sidewalk to flag down the Knight Bus.

With a BANG! The Knight Bus pulled up right in front of them. The doors opened to an older man driving the bus.

"'Lo there." He said as though he were reciting something he said a zillion times before and was tired of saying. "Name's Bert Buckman, I'll be yer driver this evenin'."

"How much for passage to Malfoy Manor for one adult and one child under age 5?" Peter asked glancing around him warily.

"Let's see, that'd come to 16 sickles, sir." Bert said boredly.

Peter pressed a shiny gold Galleon into Bert's wrinkled hand.

"Keep the change." He said as he clambered on to the bus with the girl.

"Thank you, sir." Bert said with more than a touch of sarcasm.

Peter laid Violet on one of the beds near the back, and he sat on the one next to it. He looked out the window as houses and trees rushed passed them. He had no idea how long it would take to get to Malfoy's, but he hoped it was soon. He knew Lucius would know what to do. He looked over at the little girl sleeping across from him. It was a shame that he had to do what he had to do, he thought. He really was sorry to have had to turn James and Lily in to the Dark Lord. If only they had listened to reason. If only Dumbledore could've kept the Dark Lord at bay, maybe he wouldn't have had to switch sides. But the Dark Lord was to strong, even for Dumbledore. It was only a fool who would oppose such power. He was no fool. He had done what was necessary to survive. And that's what he was being forced to do once again. Why was he the only one who could understand the devastating truth? Those who fight Lord Voldemort end up dead. It was a fact he'd seen proven over and over again. The McKinnons—dead, the Prewetts—dead, the Bones—dead, and now the Potters; Voldemort cut through powerful witches and wizards like a red-hot knife through butter. But he knew he'd be blamed for what happened just the same. It was so damned unfair! Voldemort and Dumbledore had both forced his hand in the matter and he be left to foot the bill! Well he'd just see about that. He knew how to look out for himself—how to judge when the tides were turning and powers shifting. It was his gift. Knowing when to stay put and knowing when to make tracks. It had kept him alive, while other witches and wizards, witches and wizards who had stood their ground, could not count themselves so lucky. Bottom line—he didn't like working for Voldemort, he didn't want to be a Death Eater, because quite frankly, Voldemort and his followers scared him out of his mind, but he would choose fright over destruction any day.

"Now arriving at Malfoy Manor." Bert called out.

Peter collected Violet and headed for the front of the bus.

"That little 'un sure is tuckered out." Bert remarked.

"She's had a long night." Peter said with an odd glint in his eyes. "Oh, by the way..._OBLIVIATE!_" Peter hurried out of sight before the bus driver could see him again. He especially didn't want him to sight Violet. According to the radio reports, her whereabouts where still "unknown". If he had recognized her as fitting the description on the radio, he may have reported his sighting to the Ministry. Thankfully, he didn't notice Peter ducked himself and the child behind some nearby bushes. A sort of dreamy, unconcerned look descended on the bus driver's features, and he closed the bus doors and drove away looking considerably happier about his job now than he had earlier in the evening.

With the engine of the Knight Bus fading into the distance, Peter turned to see Malfoy Manor looming above him. It was an impressive gothic monstrosity, huge and dark, flanked by massive towers supported by beautifully designed buttresses. Every dark corner was adorned with grotesque and alarmingly alive looking gargoyles. Peter shuddered inwardly as he gazed at it, unmoving. Just then he felt a slight movement in his arms.

"Where are we, Uncle Peter?" Violet asked as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

"Finally woke up, did you? Violet, this is the house of a friend of mine—and your Daddy. If we're really nice, he'll keep us safe from those bad people, like the bad man who came to your house. So when we go in there, can I count on you to be a good girl and do what I say?" Peter lied to the girl to get his way.

Violet nodded solemnly, her eyes round with the seriousness of the situation. Peter sat her down on her feet and took hold of her small hand, and together, the two of them started up the stone pathway that led to the Malfoy's front portico. Peter approached the huge double doors. Upon close inspection he realized that the doors were made of giant slabs of iron, probably several inches thick by the looks of it. No doubt Malfoy had installed these as a security measure. Magic by its very nature is an unstable thing; iron, being the most stable element on the planet, is the only metal on Earth that's impervious to it. On both iron doors there was a gargoyle's face carved out of iron with red, jeweled eyes. Peter could see no bell pull, or even any door handles for that matter. He was about to try just knocking when the jeweled eyes of the gargoyles began to glow blood red.

"**WHO DARES TRESSPASS ON MASTER MALFOY'S ESTATE?!**" they snarled in unison.

"Please, tell Mr. Malfoy that Peter Pettigrew needs to speak with him right away." Peter gulped.

"**DO YOU REALIZE WHAT TIME IT IS?! YOU WOULD HAVE US DISTURB MASTER MALFOY, FOR SOME NOBODY IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NI—"** they barked incredulously.

Peter had no time for difficult doorbells. He cut them off. "Tell Mr. Malfoy," he said rolling up the sleeve on his left arm above his elbow. "that Peter Pettigrew needs to speak with him. _Urgently_."

The gargoyles took one look at his arm, and the mark it held, and were immediately contrite. "We apologize, sir. If you'll just wait here while we announce you." The gargoyles seemingly melted into the large iron doors, and disappeared.

While they waited, Peter looked down at Violet. "Are you scared?" he asked her. She shook her head no, while gazing around the manicured lawns with terror, as though she thought evil was lurking in every shadow. Peter couldn't help but smile to himself. She was already learning to lie...maybe she'd survive on her own after all.

In a few moments, the gargoyles returned.

"Mr. Malfoy will see you, sir." They rumbled in unison, and with that their eyes went dark again, and the doors began to open.

"Ready?" Peter asked looking down at Violet.


	3. News and Adjustments

Violet nodded. She was too overwhelmed by everything going on around her to speak much.

Peter and Violet walked into a grand foyer, which dripped with overt opulence. The ceiling was so far above them, that Peter was willing to bet the servants needed broomsticks to get to the cobwebs. They were greeted by two rather grubby looking house elves.

"I am Abby, sir, Abby the house elf, and this is Dobby. If you will allow, sir, I shall take you to the study, where Mr. Malfoy awaits, and Dobby shall take Miss to wait in the drawing room." squeaked the female house elf.

"Very well." He nodded toward the elf. "Violet, you remember what we talked about?" she nodded. "Will you go with this nice house elf for Uncle Peter?" she nodded again. "Try not to scare her, will you?" Peter asked pointedly. The last thing he needed now was Violet getting upset when everything had been going so smoothly. Lily and James had the toddler well trained.

"Yes sir, Dobby understands, sir." And with that the elf and the girl walked off towards the drawing room. And now to business, Peter thought.

"Right this way, sir." Abby said, taking him through a twist and turn of corridors that would put most people in a spin. But Peter had been shape shifting into his alter ego, a rat known as Wormtail, since his school days. If anyone could find his way out of a maze, it was him. At last, Abby showed him to a large oak door. "Through this door, sir."

Peter opened the door and stepped into a surprisingly moderate sized room, considering how vast all the other rooms in the manse seemed to be. It was dimly lit with a few scattered candles. Behind a large desk of polished ebony, sat a high backed, black, leather chair and standing next to it, grasping a glass of scotch and looking irritated, was Lucius Malfoy. Peter was more than a little intimidated. Malfoy not only had powerful connections, he himself was a powerful wizard. He had cold, unfeeling, icy gray eyes that could freeze you with a look. He was quite tall—he towered over Peter. And though he was thin he was quite strong and well built. He kept his long silvery-white hair pulled back from his face, and with his high forehead and strong nose, the effect was frighteningly predatory—almost hawk-like.

"Well, Pettigrew, what is the meaning of this? It had better be good at this hour." Lucius said with intense calm, leaving a thinly veiled threat hanging in the air.

"It's not good Mr. Malfoy. In fact, it's very, very bad. That's why I've come." Peter began.

"Get to the point." Lucius snapped.

"Do you have a radio?" Peter asked him.

"Yes, on the shelf over there. Why?" Lucius pointed to a bookshelf against the far wall.

"You might want to turn it on and tune into WWN." Peter said cryptically.

Lucius looked skeptically at Peter, but did walk over to the radio and switched it on, tuning it to WWN. As it turned out, the same reports were being repeated over and over again, until there were new developments. Peter watched Lucius grow progressively paler and paler, which was quite an accomplishment for someone whose normal complexion was one shade tanner than death.

When the report ended, Lucius switched off the radio. His gaze slowly lifted from the floor and fixed on Peter accusingly. Peter quailed under it.

"How?" Lucius demanded with a menacing softness. "How did this happen? Explain yourself, _Wormtail_."

"Please, sir," Peter was so scared now, that he was passed all semblance of dignity. "The Dark Lord wanted the Potters out of the way, but they were going to perform a Fidelius Charm. I knew because I had been working as a double agent for the Dark Lord for the better part of a year. I was good friends with James Potter at Hogwarts, and he was fool enough to choose me as his secret keeper a week ago. I, of course, gave there whereabouts to the Dark Lord immediately. He went there tonight to destroy them, but—but something went wrong."

"Hmmm." Was all Lucius said. He paused thinking to himself. "And the girl you brought with you?" he inquired almost as an afterthought.

"She's the Potter's daughter. I found her hiding in some bushes across the street." Peter told him. He almost hesitated to say the next part, but felt compelled. "I thought she might prove—useful, sir."

Lucius's head darted up at that. He looked piercingly at Peter, causing him to squirm uncomfortably. Perhaps this base creature groveling before him wasn't completely without some intelligence, disgusting as he was. For his thoughts had been running in that same direction at the moment. The sort of magical knowledge it took to understand these sorts of thing, Pettigrew however, did not possess. His small mind held thoughts of the Dark Lord wishing revenge on the girl, he was sure. And although that might be true, Lucius was a competent wizard enough to know that there would be other, more practical, reasons that would take precedent over revenge. The Dark Lord had cast the Death Curse upon the girl's brother and something had gone horribly wrong. The girl's blood could be used to produce some kind of defense in the future. Having this girl could very well be vital to the Dark Lord's survival. Pettigrew may have unwittingly saved himself from a rather gruesome death, he thought with some disappointment. But the care of something so important couldn't be left to an idiot like Pettigrew. Time for a change in tactics, Lucius thought.

"I totally agree with you, Peter." Lucius said in his oiliest voice.

"Y-you do?" Peter stammered in amazement.

"Of course. It was a stroke of brilliance to bring the girl. The Dark Lord will be most pleased with you, I'm sure." Lucius poured on thickly.

"You—you don't think he'll be angry?" Peter asked hesitantly.

"Why should he be Peter? You simply followed orders. You couldn't have known about the boy. And you even delivered the girl! He won't punish you; he'll reward you for your—insight!" Lucius went on.

Peter would have begun to feel better, but he knew Lucius didn't know. Lucius didn't know that he had seen the Dark Lord, seen him…and run from him.

Lucius could see plainly that Peter was still frightened. Then a thought entered his mind. Perhaps it was not so much the wrath of the Dark Lord he feared now, but of that muggle-loving fool Albus Dumbledore. He had, after all betrayed a fair number of people, and if anyone discovered it, they'd coming looking for him with a vengeance. The Ministry had been giving the Aurors more and more power of late. They were given to more of an Avada now, ask questions later sort of policy. He had heard that they were now using Dementors as guards at Azkaban, and that the worst offenders were sentenced to receive the Dementor's Kiss. No wonder Pettigrew was terrified. Better so, he thought with some amusement, it would make the dim-witted fool much easier to manipulate.

"Peter, you should go into hiding. You've done quite enough, really. If the Ministry discovers your involvement with this, you're a dead man." Lucius told him firmly.

Peter was beginning to think that was the best idea he'd heard all day. He knew coming to see Lucius would be a good idea.

"And what about Violet?" Peter asked.

"The girl? Think Peter. Think of the consequences if you were to be apprehended with that girl. No, no, you sacrificed quite enough. Go look after yourself now. I'll look after the girl." Lucius patronized.

"Thank you so much, Lucius. I knew coming here would be a good idea." Peter said on his way out of the study.

"Indeed. The house elf will show you out." Lucius said.

Peter was shown to the large iron doors by the house elf Abby. He looked down at the elf. "That little girl I brought with me is staying here. Try to—I don't know—try to make it easier on her, will you?"

Abby looked puzzled, blinking her large brown eyes, but she nodded anyway.

And with that, Peter turned and walked through the large iron doors, leaving little Violet to fend for herself in the den of snakes that was Malfoy Manor. +

As Abby showed Peter out, back in the study, Lucius allowed himself a small smile as he relished all his newly found opportunities. He downed what was left of his scotch and made his way to the drawing room.

Dobby, the house elf, had taken Violet into the drawing room to wait. She sat on a very fine upholstered Victorian style armchair, from which her little legs dangled. She looked curiously over at the elf that stood on the area rug a few feet away from her. Her parents had never had any use for servants. The two of them stared at each other in silence for a few minutes.

"What's your name?" Violet asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

"I am called Dobby, Miss, Dobby the house elf." He said formally and in anticipation of being asked to do something.

"My name's Violet Potter." Violet said quietly.

Dobby's eyes went wide. He had been listening to the radio earlier while in the kitchen doing dishes. It hadn't been his place to wake his Master…plus he wasn't supposed to touch the radios, but he had heard the events that had taken place earlier that evening, and he realized their implications. And he was none to surprised that his Master was involved. He knew his Master was a bad wizard. He had heard on the radio about the girl—this girl apparently.

"Oh Miss, you is needing to get out of here, right now!" Dobby squeaked and grabbed Violet's arm.

"What? Why? Uncle Peter said we'd be safe here!" Violet said, starting to get panicky as Dobby continued to tug on her arm.

"Then he lied, Miss! It is not safe here for you, Miss! Dobby knows! Dobby's Master is--" but Dobby stopped before he got himself into trouble.

"What Dobby?" Violet asked.

"Can't say, but Dobby knows Miss is not safe." Dobby turned around to look at the little girl, his big green eyes pleading. "Please Miss, for your own safety!"

"O—Okay, let's go." Violet said clutching Dobby's hand firmly, her green eyes wide with fear.

Lucius entered the drawing room, only to find it conspicuously empty. He raised an eyebrow and the corners of his lips twitched in a grim smile at his servant's arrogance. It was irritating, but not wholly unexpected. "Dobby."

"Quickly Miss, this way." Dobby said, pulling her by the hand. They had run back into the foyer and down a corridor towards the back of the manor. Dobby kept stopping to listen. They turned right down a hallway with marble floors and lit with beautiful fire-lit sconces. Dobby stopped to listen again. Violet was breathing hard.

"What—"she breathed.

"Shhhh! Quick, behind here!" Dobby hissed. He yanked Violet into the nearest room. "Someone's coming!"

They waited, pressed against the door, listening as footsteps could be heard coming from outside. The footsteps grew louder, and came closer. Violet clutched Dobby's hand in a vice grip—and then—the footsteps seemed to fade away. Dobby and Violet looked at each other with sighs of relief. Dobby opened the door.

"Come on," Dobby said. "Let's go Miss, before we is getting—"

"Caught." Lucius Malfoy finished for his servant. He towered over the two fugitives. Dobby cowered in fear; there was nothing he could do. He was a house-elf, a servant. He was bound to his Master. He could do nothing further to help Violet.

Violet gazed up at the man before her. And saw the antithesis of her father. Where her father was warm, this man was cold. Where her father gave, this man took. Where her father was filled with love, this man was filled with hate. And where her father was a good man, she could tell when her gaze met his hard, staring eyes, that this man was evil.

"Run, Miss." Dobby whispered.

And run she did. Violet took off like a rocket down the corridor, hampered only a little by her long nightgown, her little bare feet slapping against the cold stone floor.

Lucius smiled coldly. He produced his wand from within the folds of his sable robes.

"_Imperius_." He hissed after her. A strand of silver light shot from his wand and went straight for the girl.

Violet heard the man behind her say something and ran faster. But wait—she—she wasn't moving. In fact, she'd fallen on the floor! She couldn't move! What was the matter with her! She wanted to cry, but found she couldn't do that either!

Lucius walked toward the girl.

"Get up." He commanded.

Violet wanted to get up—get up and run for her life, that is. But in spite of her mind's conviction, her body seemed convinced on disagreeing with her. She did as she was told.

"Follow me." Lucius told her. Violet struggled against him in her head.

_I don't wanna go with you. You're bad._

The only effect it had was to make Violet more frustrated.

Lucius walked down the corridor, with the girl trailing obediently behind him. He stopped as he passed Dobby crouching miserably on the floor.

"Get out of here! I'll deal with you later!" he snapped.

Dobby flinched and got up, scrambling off in the opposite direction. He paused, and turned to take what he thought might be his last look at the poor little girl.

"OUT!" Lucius bellowed.

Dobby jumped, and ran out of sight.

Lucius shook his head. He was going to have to do something about that elf, most likely beat him senseless. In any case, he had more important matters to deal with at the moment. He walked through a series of corridors and up two flights of stairs, Violet a few steps behind him all the way, until he came to a large oak door. He opened the door to a sumptuously decorated guest room. The room was decorated in white. It had diaphanous white curtains that seemed to flow like visible wind over the windows. The bed had exquisite wrought iron framework, and a snow-white comforter that was so soft it felt like a piece of cloud. Even the carpet was thick and as soft as rabbit's fur. He turned and picked up the girl.

Violet, had she been able to, would have trembled violently, being picked up by this man, stunned as she was. Had she had full use of her faculties however, she knew what she would've done…she would've bitten him.

Lucius laid her down on the bed and covered her up. He looked at the little girl laying there, staring up at him blankly. He had James Potter's daughter. He owned Voldemort's salvation. Dumbledore would give _anything_ to get her back. He smiled to himself. He held all the cards now, he thought to himself as he walked to the door.

He glanced back at the girl. "Go to sleep." He ordered. And with that he shut the door.

Violet was left in the dark room, lying in the bed, ironically doing what all little children do—fighting to stay awake. But hers was a more desperate battle. She struggled to force her eyelids open, pounding against the boundaries the spell had put on her. But it was no use. And like all children must, within a few minutes time, Violet had surrendered into the arms of sleep.


	4. Friends and More Permanent Arrangements

It was a whole month before Lucius got word from the Dark Lord—an entire agonizing month. In the month following the incident with the Potters, the force and power that Lord Voldemort had been building over the previous 11 years had been shattered. Death Eaters were being rounded up by the Aurors in droves. Some were given lighter sentences if they gave names of their "co-conspirators" to the Ministry. Others were convincing the Ministry that they had been under the Imperius Curse (only some of them had). Even Lucius himself had not escaped the squall unscathed. He had been shown the indignity of being accused, and had had to convince the Ministry that he had been forced to do some underhanded deeds by means of the Imperius Curse. It had been horrible, he had said. Awful. You just don't have any idea.

But he had received word from the Dark Lord, in the form of a letter. Apparently, Lord Voldemort had been the victim of treachery. Lucius learned of Wormtail's flight, and how the Dark Lord had been reduced to a spectral form, whose only power was to possess bodies. The Dark Lord had possessed an 8-year-old magical boy to write the letter and send it, but the boy's life was quickly drained by his Master's occupation. His Master had heard about the Potter girl never being found, and immediately recognized the possibilities. In the letter, he commanded Lucius to find the girl and keep her in trust for him until he was ready for her. But there was also a spell included and some strange instructions. Lucius read it thoroughly.

Lucius, my friend,

No time for pleasantries, this body is already beginning to fail me. I will need this girl in coming confrontations. I want you to keep her for me—which will be easier for you if you and I are the only ones who remember her existence. Enclosed is a VERY powerful spell called a GEObliviate Charm. It will erase the memory of her from everyone on the planet, except you, because you are doing the spell. Unfortunately, there is no way to protect myself from the Charm. I leave her in your capable hands, Lucius, and **_trust_** that you will present her to me when the time is right. Perform the spell at precisely Midnight on New Year's Eve.

Good Luck, my friend

Lucius understood the thinly veiled threat in the letter. The Dark Lord was no one to be trifled with. He didn't even consider not presenting the girl to the Dark Lord. After the GEObliviate Charm, The Dark Lord may have no memory of the girl, but Lucius could be assured that his Master would devise fail-safe spells ahead of time to ensure he achieved his ends—and some of those fail-safe spells had a pretty good chance of turning out badly for him.

Lucius glanced at the paper containing the spell. Just skimming it, he realized he was going to have to import some of the ingredients—illegally. He had better get started. At least he already had the girl. After that first night he realized that it would be a stupid waste of energy and magic to keep the girl under the Imperius Curse all the time, not to mention bothersome. You had to tell someone under the Imperius Curse to do _everything_. You had to tell them to breath, to blink, to chew—and then to swallow their food. You had to tell them to go to the bathroom…he didn't want to go there. No, no, far less trouble to confine the girl to a place she couldn't possibly escape from. So he had concocted such a place within the walls of his very Manor—well actually beneath the floor. He magically constructed a whole large room and bathroom for her, beneath the house. There were no stairs or doors. The only way to get in and out of the room was to Apparate. Only advanced witches and wizards (and a smattering of magical creatures of low import) could Apparate, and only after a lot of practice. He was confident the girl would not escape. There she could play with toys or sit and sulk all day long, for all he cared. Lucius had made sure that Violet's room was lavish, he wouldn't have anything in his Manor that wasn't. Even his dungeon was spectacular, with instruments of torture that would make the stomach of The Devil himself turn in revulsion. And for Violet, the room was proving a most adequate prison.

Violet sat on the plushly carpeted floor of the room the bad man had put her in. It wasn't the same as the room she'd spent her first night in. It was stuffy, and she couldn't see any doors or windows—in fact, she couldn't remember exactly how she had come to be in this room, and that scared her.

That first morning had been horribly frightening. With no foreseeable way in or out, she thought no one would ever find her in this secret room, and that she might starve to death before the day was out. It had scared the daylights out of her when from her place curled up on the bed; she had heard a loud _pop!_ Upon peering over the edge of the bed, she squealed with relief to see a familiar face. It was Dobby the house elf; bearing a large breakfast tray filled with good, hot things to eat and a face filled with sadness.

"Oh Dobby!" She cried. "I thought I'd never see you again!"

"Dobby is so sorry, Miss. Dobby is afraid he can be of no more help. Dobby was most severely punished for trying to help little Miss escape." Dobby shook his head sorrowfully.

"Oh poor Dobby. Don't be sorry. I know you did everything you could. You are my best friend, Dobby!" Violet had exclaimed wrapping her little arms around Dobby's scrawny little neck.

Dobby was overcome. He'd never been anyone's friend before, let alone someone's best friend. He didn't know precisely what his Master's plans were for the little Miss, but he was sure of one thing; his Master was evil, and any plans he had for Miss Violet Potter would not be pleasant. He may not be able to help her directly, per his Master's orders, but he had very large ears…ears he'd keep open for anything that had to do with the Potters.


	5. Narcissa

And so the days had gone for Violet. Dobby would bring her food, but he could never stay for very long. She spent her days playing with the toys that had been thoughtfully placed in the room. She was growing more and more lonely. Violet's thoughts strayed wistfully back to a short happy time ago when she'd been at home with her Mommy and Daddy and Harry. She remembered running around in their yard at home, and her Daddy pushing her on the small swing set. It made her cry to think about it. She cried a lot. Sometimes she got angry and threw fits. Not to mention she was starting to go stir crazy. She hadn't been outside in over a week. She longed to go outside. She had started running in circles just to be moving.

Then one day the following week, as the days were beginning to run together for Violet, she woke from her afternoon nap to a much louder _crack!_ than Dobby usually made coming in, and Dobby had already brought her lunch. She sat up on the bed rubbing the sleep out of her eyes to an unfamiliar clucking noise. She blinked as she saw the most beautifully dressed lady she'd ever seen, standing at the foot of her bed and gazing down at her. She was shaking her head and clucking her tongue disapprovingly. Violet just sat there wide-eyed and blinking.

"No, no, this will never do." The woman said, more to herself than to Violet. Narcissa Malfoy took in the scene around her, clucking in disapproval. Apparently the girl had been left to clean up after herself. She was curious to see what state the girl would be in. "Come here, young lady, and let me look at you.

What Narcissa Malfoy saw was an affront to her senses. The little girl was, well, she supposed "unkempt" would be an appropriate term. Her little white cotton nightgown had food spilled down the front. Her hands and feet were dirty from playing on the floor, and her hair and face were oily from going days without a wash. Apparently it had not occurred to Lucius that the child was not old enough to care for herself in some ways. Narcissa rolled her eyes with vexed impatience at all the work it was invariably going to take to make this child respectable, the wheels already turning in her head.

"What is your name, dear?" she asked, snapping out of her reverie.

"Violet, Ma'am. Violet Potter." Violet had replied shyly. She didn't know who this pretty lady was, but she seemed nice enough.

The final piece of the puzzle clicked into place quite nicely for Narcissa. She would never directly ask her husband his Death Eater business, but if she happened to find out on her own, he could hardly blame her. So her husband had pocketed the elder Potter child. That was part of why she loved Lucius, he ways always planning ahead. She knew what having this child meant to the Dark Lord. But unlike her husband, she was not fool enough to put unswerving faith in the Dark Lord. She supported him fully, oh yes, but what if the day should come when he was defeated utterly? The Death Curse came dangerously close to doing its accursed work on All Hallows Eve—just not on its intended target. It was all over the papers and the WWN how that muggle-loving twit, Albus Dumbledore, had spirited Harry Potter away into "safe-keeping". Even now Death Eaters were on the look out for news of the boy's whereabouts. Narcissa knew that if Dumbledore had one Potter child on his side, she should at least be sure to have the sympathies of the other one. And so Narcissa set her course. She would dote on Lily Potter's daughter as if the girl were her own. She would be as a surrogate mother to the child. That way, should all else fail and the Dark Lord come to ruin, surely the girl would speak on her behalf. Lucius might go down with his Dark Lord, but not Narcissa; she would look out for herself.

One thing she would not lower herself to, however, was servants' work. "Violet, my name is Narcissa. I live here in the manor and I'll be helping to take care of you. I think you've been wearing that nightgown for quite a while now, haven't you?" Violet nodded, a little red coming to her cheeks. "Well then, why don't I have Abby draw you a bath, and I'll find you some clothes, alright?" Violet nodded again, and with a loud _crack!_ Narcissa was gone from the room. A moment later there was a softer _pop!_ and Abby the house elf was there. She took Violet into the large bathroom, and ran steamy water into the huge copper, claw-footed tub. Abby then proceeded to climb in after Violet, sackcloth and all, and began to give Violet her bath. By the time Violet came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a big white terry cloth towel, Narcissa had not only returned with a pile of dresses the size of a small mountain, but had decadently redecorated the once large plain room. The room had once been plainly done in white. Now, most appropriately, the entire room was done in shades of violet. Her bed was now a frothy canopied confection that even sugar would call sweet, and the rest of the room was done up to match.

Violet thought it was very pretty, but it didn't look very comfy. But it looked like Narcissa had gone to a lot of trouble, so she just smiled.

"What do you think, Violet? I did it in Violet just like your pretty name." Narcissa said flatteringly. Narcissa would've loved this kind of attention when she was a girl, but she always had to compete with her sisters.

"It's really—er—pretty." Violet stammered.

"And look here, I found some adorable little dresses and things for you to wear."

Within minutes Violet found herself wearing the fanciest ensemble she'd ever worn. She wore a dress of violet knee length voile over satin. The skirt poofed out at the bottom because of the tulle petticoat she wore beneath the dress. And still beneath all of that, she wore crisp, white, nylon tights. On her feet was a shiny pair of matching violet patent leather Maryjanes. Her crowning glory was her fine, delicate black curls, which Narcissa herself tied back in a single silky violet ribbon.

"There, that's better isn't it?" Narcissa asked with a satisfied smile.

Violet looked at herself in the mirror. She hardly recognized herself. She didn't know she could look so pretty—so delicate! She was used to looking in the mirror and seeing a little tomboy wave back at her, not a little princess. She felt a little awkward and uncomfortable—and too hot. She looked like a live doll, but Narcissa looked so happy.

"I look like a doll." Violet told her, hoping that her dismay wouldn't leak through her voice.

"I know. You look adorable, my dear." Narcissa paused, a moment as if considering something for the first time. "I bet you've been lonely down here, haven't you, my child?"

Violet perked up immediately. "Oh yes, Ma'am. It's awfully lonely down here all by myself. The only person I ever get to see is Dobby. He's my best friend, but he has to work so he never gets to stay very long." Violet rambled on.

This was news to Narcissa. She knew one of the elves had to have been bringing the girl food, but she never would've thought her husband would've been careless enough to let that particular elf near the girl again. That elf had always been trouble—more than a tad to willful for her taste. But Dobby had been her husband's family servant since before Lucius was born, and it seemed to her that he was a bit lenient when it came to Dobby. The elf's continuing interest in the girl was worth noting. But rather than stop it, why not encourage it unobtrusively, and see where it leads. Perhaps if she caught the nasty little elf doing something red-handed, she might finally be able to convince her husband to be rid of him in a permanent fashion.

"You know Dobby, too? Why so do I!" Narcissa exclaimed. "I bet I could arrange for him to come see you more often. Would you like that?"

"Oh yes! Could you?!" Violet jumped up and wrapped her arms around Narcissa's legs. Narcissa was quite taken aback, but she leaned over and placed a cool, dry kiss on Violet's forehead, before backing away and disappearing with a loud _crack!_

Lucius had been in for quite a surprise upon his last visit to the girl. He came in the afternoon, while the girl was napping. He had allowed himself a small smile at what he saw. The girl he had left to wallow in her own misery, his wife had draped in opulence. His wife was no soft touch—it was part of what he admired about her. She had seen some advantage in coddling this girl, which he had apparently missed—and he made a point of missing as little as possible. But whatever his wife's motives; the girl was not hers to fiddle with. She was for the Dark Lord. Lucius noted his wife's interest and made a point to intervene.

"I noticed the girl's room was redecorated, when I last went down to check on her adjustment." Lucius said pointedly one evening at dinner.

Narcissa knew very well that a rebuke was waiting in the wings, but she was an expert at pretending not to notice.

"Hmmm." Was the only comment she made while daintily taking a sip of her Merlot.

"Narcissa, I don't want you to get involved with that girl. You know very well she's for the Dark Lord. It will be harder for you if you get attached to her." Lucius pressed his point, knowing full well his wife's actions had little or nothing to do with sentimentality.

"Oh Lucius, you know I've always wanted a girl. You always said once you had your male heir that would be it, and since we've already had Draco you know I'm not going to get one!" Narcissa played her cards, leaning over the table to display a generous amount of cleavage.

Lucius grinned, knowing exactly what she was doing. The words that floated through the air between them were meaningless. This was a battle of wills that had nothing to do with attachment and everything to do with jockeying for position.

"Just let me play with her. I promise I won't get too attached." She pouted.

Lucius got up from his seat at the table and circled around behind Narcissa, bending until his mouth was breathing into her ear. "I suppose it couldn't hurt...just don't stay down there too late." He murmured suggestively.


	6. Death Eater Detective

Albus Dumbledore was very disturbed. This was not to say that he was crazy, although a lot of people would argue to the contrary. No this was to say that he was bothered, concerned, stressed, anxious, troubled, and VERY uneasy.

Most witches and wizards had spent the last month celebrating wildly. And now everywhere he turned there were even more festivities, parties and general merry-making. They were all celebrating one thing—the first Yuletide Season since the downfall of Lord Voldemort. And amidst all the laughter and tears, every person joined in toasting one very small boy—_"to Harry Potter, the boy who lived!"_

But Albus could not join in the celebrations, as much as he would've liked to. The Potters had been his responsibility. He knew that Voldemort would come for them, in time. It was Albus who had suggested the Fidelius Charm that had gone so horribly wrong. He had heard that Peter Pettigrew had recently confronted Sirius Black about the Potters' death—and he knew then what had happened, though he couldn't prove it. He had already seen to the protection of young Harry. He knew that Voldemort would seek the boy out. He had put the boy in the care of his only living relatives—the Dursleys, a family of muggles. The woman, Petunia Dursley, was Lily Potter's blood sister. He had set up powerful ancient magic around their house as well. Voldemort couldn't touch the boy there. Unfortunately there had been no trace of James and Lily's daughter Violet. Most people by now were just assuming she was dead. He wasn't sure if she was dead, hiding somewhere, or being held by one of Voldemort's Death Eaters. None of those options were to his liking, but if he had to bet, he would go with door number three. They hadn't found her body, and frightened as she must've been had she survived, surely she would've sought out help. If indeed one of the Death Eaters did have the girl, he needed to know, and he needed to find her—soon.

Nearby, evening had descended upon the village of Hogsmeade, and the Three Broomsticks Inn was bustling with activity. Holly, ivy, and mistletoe were strung all about the place, and in the corner was a grand Yule Tree, decorated beautifully. A large fire crackled and hissed in the great fireplace, and people from the town mingled with visitors staying at the Inn, all while imbibing substantial quantities of eggnog. Outside the snow was coming down heavily, and it had strong winds to back it up, but inside everyone was snug and warm. The drinking and talking went on for hours...

It was getting late. Those who were leaving had already left, leaving only a few behind, murmuring softly, and people were settling into that warm sleepy atmosphere that happens late at night. Suddenly, the doors to the Inn burst open. Everyone in the room turned to see a dark figure walk in accompanied by a bone-chilling gust of night air. He turned and struggled to close the door against the wind. With that done, he stomped the snow off his black boots, brushed the snow of his cloak, removed his gloves, and finally removed his hood. It was the removal of his hood that filled the people in the room with hushed, scandalized, astonishment. Most knew who this man was, and many still doubted his allegiances.

Severus Snape watched the effect he had on the tiny Inn with bitter amusement, albeit cleverly disguised. He knew what they were all thinking. It was the same thing everyone thought about him--everyone but Albus Dumbledore. He walked the length of the room, cloak billowing behind him, to the counter, behind which stood a moderately attractive witch.

"I need a room." He told her matter-of-factly.

She opened a registry book on the counter and put on a pair of spectacles.

"I see, well, I'm not sure we have any vacancies at the moment. Perhaps if you come back in a week or so..." she trailed off.

Severus raised an eyebrow at the woman.

"My name is Severus Snape." He told the woman with a quiet sort of dangerousness.

"I—I don't care who you are—" the woman stammered. She obviously knew exactly whom he was and was scared out of her wits.

"I'm sure you don't care," he snapped impatiently, "but I have a reservation."

She looked at him skeptically now.

"Look at the registry. The reservation was made by Albus Dumbledore. It should be one room, paid up until New Year." He directed her.

Behind him there were a few muffled coughs and some muttered whispers from people sitting around the fire. Why would Albus Dumbledore be in contact with someone who had been a known Death Eater? Of course everyone knew how he had given witness at Snape's trial. He said that Snape _had_ been a Death Eater, but that he had shifted allegiances and played the roll of double agent for Dumbledore for quite a while. But then again, everyone also knew what a soft touch old Dumbledore was. He was all about second chances—sometimes even third...but when it came right down to it, just how far could you _really_ trust a "_former_" Death Eater?

The woman behind the counter, however, who was none other than Madame Rosmerta, the owner and proprietor of the Three Broomsticks Inn, was not so easily put off as some of her customers. If this man had his boarding reservations made by Albus Dumbledore himself, that was good enough for her. She knew what Albus Dumbledore meant—as long as she could keep him sending his business to her Inn...it meant cold, gold, galleons. Dumbledore was loaded, and the astute businesswoman in her knew opportunities when she saw them.

She immediately warmed to Severus, looking up from the registry, giving him her most inviting smile. "Ah, it's seems you are correct Mr. Snape. My sincerest apologies for the misunderstanding. Here is your key; you'll be in room number 3."

People continued to stare as he took the key and walked brusquely up the stairs at the back of the large common room.

Only once he was in his room with the door closed and locked, did Severus heave a sigh of weary frustration. He tossed a small weather-beaten black bag onto the bed and with a wave of his wand, ignited a cozy fire in the fireplace. He removed his soggy outer cloak and hung it over a small wooden chair near the fire so it would dry, and kicked off his large black dragon-hide boots. He went to the bag and pulled out the reason he was in Hogsmeade. He carried the letter in his hand and sat in a large cushioned chair that sat in front of the fireplace. He reread the letter for the hundredth time:

Dear Severus,

I hope this letter finds you well. I'm told Yuletide should be a time

of joy. I find, however, that I have had little time for proper

Yuletide jubilation. In fact I have little time for anything, including

this letter I'm sorry to say, my friend, so I'll get right to the point.

Since the incident with the Potters, and the subsequent

disappearance of Lord Voldemort, people have been celebrating

with more and more confidence. I fear, however, that the threat

posed by Voldemort may still be hovering quite near. I have taken

measures to secure young Harry Potter, and I am confident he is safe

where he is. Unfortunately, I am still no closer to discovering the

whereabouts of James and Lily's eldest child, 4-year-old Violet. She

is alive, of that I am certain. I fear that if Voldemort get his hands on

her, he may try to use her to get to her brother...and if he succeeds

in getting to Harry, he could very well restore himself. I need you to

be my eyes and ears, Severus. I need you to find Violet before

Voldemort can get to her. The future of wizards and muggles alike

may very well depend on it. I've booked you a room at the Three

Broomsticks Inn in Hogsmeade. The rooms paid up through the

New Year, which I hope to be ringing in with you and something warm to drink.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS,

_Albus Dumbledore_

Severus had received the letter from a _phoenix_ of all things. He had been quite taken aback. They were quite expensive and usually kept exclusively by people in the wand-making trade. He had never heard of one being used to carry mail before, but he assumed that if Dumbledore had sent a phoenix instead of just using one of the many owls he must've had available to him up at Hogwarts, the message must indeed be urgent.

He had known that the Potters were being hunted by the Dark Lord. In fact, he had been the one to pass Dumbledore the information. He didn't know why the Dark Lord seemed to want the Potters with such vehemence, but whatever the reason, his plan seemed to have backfired. Many supposed that it was because the Dark Lord asked James Potter to join the ranks of his Death Eaters, and Potter refused, but Severus suspected there was more to it than that. Many men and women had been solicited by the Death Eaters, and more than a few refused. The Dark Lord had ordered them destroyed, but rarely did he claim the kill for himself. He usually had more important matters to attend to. But for some reason, the Potters had been different. _And then Lord Voldemort found he had bitten off slightly more than he could chew_, Severus thought with a grim smile. He hadn't counted on the boy—or had he? Perhaps he hadn't been there for Potter or his wife, but the children. Or perhaps he had just wanted Potter and his son. But now that both parents were dead, and the boy out of his reach, all he had was the girl.

Severus furrowed his brow with thought. There were many spells that one could accomplish with the girl. He could use the girl's hair to make Polyjuice Potion. He could use the Imperius Curse and use the girl as bait to any number of elaborate traps. And most dangerous of all, he could use the girl's blood to make himself blood-bound to the boy, making him impervious to any protection the boy had, inherent or otherwise. It would give him open access to Harry Potter no matter where he was—not even Dumbledore would be able to stop him.

Severus tossed the letter into the fire and watched as the flames consumed it, reducing the parchment to nothing more than fragments of smoldering ash. He had to find the Potter girl quickly.


End file.
